


Function

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Nyx sucks.
Relationships: Regis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	Function

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfLions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfLions/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for MistressofLions’s “Regis/Nyx BDSM” request on [my Dreamwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’d be even better in the throne room, with cold tile under his knees instead of lush carpeting—Nyx doesn’t _want_ any comfort. He wants to feel the burn of his king’s cock at the very back of his throat, feels his jaw ache from the stretch of that impressive girth, gain bruises all over his body in the shape of his king’s lust. He moans when Regis’ blunt nails dig into his skull, skimming back along his scalp—Regis tangles through his styled hair and shoves him further down. Nyx chokes but takes it. His body shudders, his throat convulsing, but he breathes through his nose and regains a sense of control. He’s not a novice anymore. Sometimes he feels like he’s a virgin when he’s at his king’s feet, because Regis is just so very _good_ at everything, but that’s to be expected. It’s Nyx’s duty to keep up. 

Nyx swallows hard and groans at the salty taste. Regis’ fingers fall far back enough that they brush along the rim of his black collar, emblazoned with the royal seal—something Nyx is incredibly proud to wear. He’s proud to be where he is: in his king’s private chambers, even if it would be hotter to be so thoroughly dominated before the throne. Regis looks exquisite sprawled back in the heavy armchair tucked into the corner of his bedroom, but he looks especially handsome when he’s sitting rigidly in his throne. Nyx has often served just behind him, standing tall and ready, eager to defend the crown. Despite his origins and the judgment of a few friends, he’s fiercely loyal to Insomnia. To the royal family. To his _king_. He’d do anything for Regis Lucis Caelum, including strip down to nothing and have his arms tied behind his back. 

They’re bound wrist to elbow. It makes it hard to do much more than lightly rock back and forth, vainly trying to hump the air—he’s not close enough to hump Regis’ leg. He wouldn’t do that anyway, not without being told—he’s much too disciplined. He’s perfectly capable of sitting in the same place with his thighs spread open, hard cock jutting out into the cool open air. Occasionally, one of Regis’ polished boots will shift to press against it, though never as roughly as Nyx would like. It’s been going so long that Nyx is dying for friction. He’d happily thrust himself against the underside of his king’s boot until he sullied both that and the carpet, but he isn’t given that option. For such a powerful leader, such a stern partner, Regis is still remarkably _gentle_. He’ll give Nyx the collar and tie up his arms but not his legs, or spread his thighs apart but not his hands, sometimes leave things _inside him_ but then do nothing else—never all at once. Nyx could take all at once. He’s built like a tank and works out constantly, more for this than anything: he needs to be taut and handsome and thoroughly in shape, just in case he should need to bend his body to his lover’s whims. Being one of the best glaives is just a pleasant side effect. 

Regis grazes down his cheek and cups his chin, thumb caressing his skin before warning, “I’m close.”

Nyx hums his acknowledgement and sucks twice as hard. Regis shudders and hums a note of approval that Nyx greedily soaks up—he needs _more_. He grinds his face into Regis’ crotch with everything he has.

Regis groans, and his release splatters Nyx’s throat. He swallows instantly around it, then swallows again to preemptively catch more—he stays fully sheathed and tries to milk out every drop he can. He only pulls back once, just enough to taste, and then he burrows down and resumes swallowing everything. 

When it’s finished, he’s still throbbing. Regis moans and praises, “ _Good boy._ ”

Those fingers curl beneath his chin and scratch there, not unlike petting a dog. Nyx leans into it but keeps his mouth full, at least until Regis pulls himself out. It leaves Nyx feeling empty, and he chases his master’s flagging cock with an eager tongue, licking up every stray bead of cum and spit that he can reach. Regis chuckles and pets his hair again, pausing to toy with the thin braids near the back. “So well behaved...”

Libertus and Crowe might laugh if they heard that. Duty always overcomes any rebellion. Nyx leaves his problems at the door of the Citadel, because his place at Regis’ feet is a much simpler world: one where he doesn’t have to worry about a single thing save for his king’s pleasure. In so many ways, he prefers that. 

He was the one to ask for it, to flirt and campaign for it, to bend himself over the table in the council room and beg his king to claim him. It was both the craziest and best thing he’s ever done. 

His phone hums from the pocket of his discarded uniform, and Regis’ eyes flicker to that pile of fabric. Nyx’s don’t. Regis politely asks, “Would you like to answer that?”

“No,” Nyx rasps. His throat is hoarse from over-use, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. “It couldn’t possibly be anyone more important than the man I’m already with.”

Regis chuckles fondly. Then he lightly shoves Nyx away and rises to his feet. He doesn’t bother tucking himself back in, but does sheds his cloak as he strolls for the bed. 

Nyx is skilled enough to rise to his feet without being untied—he follows behind, fully invested in round two.


End file.
